Santa Fe

This time last week, THOMY and I were hightailing it out of Santa Fe a day early to avoid the snow storms that were predicted to blind us along our entire route home very soon. At 2:30 Friday morning, we rolled into our driveway without one drop or flake having fallen on us. When we woke up about eight hours later, and for most of the weekend, all was ice and gray skies.



In Santa Fe, we stayed in an apartment, in a four-plex building which was once housing for the military in Santa Fe...a verrry old place. Having such a casita within the edges of Old Santa Fe was supposed to be a big advantage since the narrow, confusing streets in this city center discourages driving. THOMY and I were just going to walk everywhere. I love doing that because I'm not so thrilled with driving in any unfamiliar place; it punches all the zen out of a vacation, you know?

So it was supposed to be a bonus. However, I had developed some trouble with my back before we left for Santa Fe, and it only got worse once we were there. I even brought my electric heating pad, which I began to endearingly call my tuffet. By Tuesday morning, though, I was in tears with pain.

I persevered, of course. I was on vacation, dadgumit--the farthest West and the highest up in elevation I'd ever been for a lowlands girl. So I pulled on my big girl panties--no trifling feat--sucked in the air-deficient air, and I loped from block to block. I sat every few hundred feet to calm my lungs, vertebrae, and occasionally my husband before hoisting myself up and doing it some more. Consequently, many of my touristy photos are close ups of things I found around me as I rested.


In my hometown, geese are more of an annoyance than pigeons. So the pigeons of Santa Fe's central Plaza amused me for awhile.



The left one seems to be looking at his neighbor, thinking, "Sheesh, man. Table manners!"


We went to see The Miraculous Staircase in Loretto Chapel. (Visit the website to read the story behind it.) The chapel is no longer a workaday holy place, but quietness remains in the atmosphere there.



Underside of the staircase.


On Museum Hill, I rested in the courtyard between four amazing museums. And this is what I saw near me.



Once again, I have no idea what the name of the plant is. But I like it.


And just to make this entry narrowly related to creativity, I found the most awesome yarn shop in Santa Fe: Miriam's Well, which is also the Santa Fe School of Weaving. Here is her courtyard.



I bought a purse there made by a Guatemalan woman who is named on the label inside. The label isn't in English, but I think the gist is she is part of a creative cooperative through the Methodist denomination. I like the personal weight of carrying around her name along with all the things I need in that bag.



The bag, the yarn, and a small glass vase I brought back from Santa Fe.

If you'd like to see more of my touristy photographs, you're welcome to view my Santa Fe Flickr album.